Samantha Sick: 'Why I'm Hotter Than All of FHM's 100 Sexiest Women'

For nearly 20 years I have declined to be on FHM's 100 Sexiest Women List. Year after year they ask, and year after year I thumb my pretty little nose at them. Why? Because I am so modest. This does however mean that I know better than most what it takes for a woman in the public eye to take that next leap, and become a truly iconic beauty.

This is why I am proud to call FHM's 100 Sexiest Women List an institution. It is the women's Olympics. It's a haven where girls can be judged purely on the symmetry of their nipples. And I say that as a mother. A mother with nipples so symmetrical that on dark nights, sailors have used them to guide ships through treacherous waters.

You may say that FHM's 100 Sexiest Women List is promoting hatred towards women, but masturbating teenagers are perfectly within their rights to have a say in how beauty is represented in the media. As am I – after all, it's a concept the nation has learnt from staring between my mesmerising thighs.

When it comes to FHM's 100 Sexiest Women list, femininity is boiled down to its eternal essence – stripped to a bikini, oiled and writhing across a photographic studio. Some ugly women burp about this being sexist; but they have coalmines where their wombs should be. Frankly, a woman's figure translates into whether she can justify its place in an increasingly crowded market.

Every year more and more women are born, how are we to decide which get to live and which are pulped, fed to the elderly and used to make Velcro? FHM's 100 Sexiest Women List is a start.

When the acid-tongued TV critic A.A. Gill wrote a highly uncomplimentary review of a prostitute he shot with a rifle recently, I can’t say I was entirely surprised. Yet in certain quarters of the liberal press, he was treated as a monster. Not so.

While there is no denying that 24 hours in bed with me will be a transcendental experience, both intellectually and physically, the plain truth is that some women (even some prostitutes) are too ugly to live.

If I were A.A. Gill’s wife, I would congratulate him on the publicity the slaughter has created.

Then I would do what we should have done a generation ago. I would visit every house in Britain cloaked in black, and using medical equipment, perform bizarre surgical acts on every woman and girl whose figure displeased me.

All girls receive a school-level education in French, history and spelling at great expense to the taxpayer, so why was this learning not extended to her breasts, butt and pout? FHM's 100 Sexiest Women List is succeeding where Britain has failed.

The greatest tragedy isn’t an ugly woman’s nasty hair, or that her make-up free face is less attractive then some tumours I've had: it’s the fact that was I to remove her face with a knife, replace it with a clock and hang her in my study, I would be treated as the sick one.

My team and I have spent months developing a system through which we can tell if a woman is ugly without even meeting her: The Ugly Woman is working-class and in her late 40s, her arsehole is not bleached, she is a size 18. She would not make FHM's 100 Sexiest Women List and, as such, is someone whom most men would enjoy hitting with a car.

We aim to make this happen, live in front of a daytime TV audience.

The only potential snag is the resistance of the "women" themselves. To them I say:

"I’m sorry. I understand you have some affection for life, but the state of your gusset is a problem. We have enough women in Britain right now, and what would FHM's 100 Sexiest Women say if we let you live?"

At that point Tulisa will close a car door on their head.

Cruel? You may think so, but on reflection I think you'll realise I am actually one of the very few women with the moral fibre, and stunning figure, to tell the truth.